It's in the girl
by BulkyCamera
Summary: This was NOT supposed to happen. I can't fall in love with her! She's the enemy! Oh God, Master's gonna kill me...
1. Chapter 1

**Uh, so I got this idea pretty suddenly while listening to the song on YouTube. Not very original, but I wanted to write it. Anyway, I **_**may**_** turn this into a story instead of just an angsty one shot, **_**if**_** I find the inspiration. Feel free to give me prompts, please. ^_^**

**Disclaimer - All rights for DragonFable go to Artrix Entertainment, and the song used, Rue's lullaby belongs to Suzanne Collins. **

**This is a link to the song if you want to listen to it while reading that part - **

.com/watch?v=uCmoAuZgsnE

**Yosh, on with the story!**

**~MISAKI~**

"Misaki?" Twilly's sweet voice echoed in my ears as I took in the destruction of the town around me. Tomix, Artrix Valencia, Warlic, Cyzero, Lim, Serenity, Aegis, Robina, Zhoom, Lady Celestia, everyone was assembled. The rampaging dragons had been tamed, and the undead army completely vanquished, but there had been casualties. The entire town was in ruins. Again. Because of me. Again.

Warlic took charge, directing everyone into groups of three, one mage and two fighters. I was with Tomix and Twilly, and Warlic ordered us to go scout the southern part of town for survivors.

Most people had managed to evacuate, but some others who were slower got left behind.

Everywhere I looked, there were burning houses, and the whole place was littered with the boned of the now permanently dead undead. I cringed as I saw one of the few living enemy soldiers lay sprawled in a mangled mess on the ground a few feet to my left. Tomix gave my back a comforting pat, and we moved on.

Ten seconds later I stopped dead in my tracks, and spun wildly to the east, and ran like the wind. Tomix ran after me, dragging Twilly along, asking what the matter was, when I saw him.

He was a tiny little boy, with icy white skin, deep brown eyes and forest green hair. He was trapped under the rubble of a house, and he was yelling for help. I ran to him, running and delicately blasting the rubble from off his body. Twilly took a look at him and declared that we needed to get him to Warlic immediately. I picked up the little kid's three foot frame, and ran like the wind toward Warlic. He saw me coming, and prepped himself, got his medicines and bandages ready. I gently set the boy down on the sterile sheet spread on the ground. Warlic's face paled when he saw the many injuries on the boy's body, and both he and Twilly began to heal him when he started to glow purple, and they were blown away.

"Misaki, we can't heal him." Warlic explained to me gently. The little boy looked up at me in awe when he heard my name, but I didn't notice, being to engrossed in yelling and demanding why.

The others came back and Artrix placed a hand on my shoulder.

"The blood has been tainted my dark magic, Misaki. We can't save him." He said softly. I fell to my knees beside the boy's head, and Valencia wrapped her arms around me, trying to provide some comfort. I snapped out of my reverie when the little boy spoke.

"Are you... r-re..ally Misaki?" His young voice was hoarse and thin, but the awe was evident. I nodded tearfully, smoothing his hair back from his forehead gently.

"My...my friends and - and I really li-like you!" He exclaimed. I gave him a pathetic watery smile before Tomix took over.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it.

"I'm Gale!" He replied happily, despite the situation.

"That's a kind of storm." He added knowingly. We were all silent for a minute until Gale asked us in a low voice.

"Am I going to die?" I couldn't hold the tears in any longer, so Val and I ended up holding each other and crying.

"I'm afraid so. But you'll be going to heaven, so you'll be happy there." Warlic told him gently.

"Yeah, I can b-be with my... daddy~" He looked happier at that thought. Then

Gale looked at me once before asking hesitantly,

"M- Misaki? Can I a..sk... you a favor?"

"Anything" I choked out.

"Can you please sing for me? Daddy said you sing nice." The it hit me. He was Domovoi's son. Domovoi, who died on the front lines of battle a week ago. Domovoi and his wife Iredessa, the only ones who had ever heard me sing. Both dead. Died in battle. Battle that was caused because me. My fault. I wouldn't say no to him, so I nodded, and moved to the top of his head, and put it in my lap.

And then I sang.

**~SEPULCHURE~**

I really had no idea she could sing. Even I sat silently, listening raptly to her song.

~_Deep in the meadow..._

_Under the willow..._

_A bed of grass,_

_A soft green pillow._

_Lay down your head, _

_and close your eyes..._

_and when they open, _

_the sun will rise...~_

I swear, every living creature withing hearing distance of her stopped dead in their tracks to listen to her voice. It put Sirens to shame.

~_Here it's safe,_

_and here it's warm..._

_and here the daisies guard you from every harm..._

_And here your dreams are sweet..._

_And tomorrow brings them true..._

_Here is the place where I love you.~_

_~Deep in the meadow,_

_hidden far away..._

_a cloak of leaves, _

_a moonbeam ray._

_forget your woes,_

_and let your troubles lay._

_And when again it's morning,_

_They'll wash away...~_

She had managed to enchant even me. I saw the little boy slip away, and felt an unfamiliar pang of remorse. He was so small, so young, with his entire future ahead of him, and I had taken that away in seconds.

~_Here it's safe,_

_and here it's warm..._

_and here the daisies guard you from every harm..._

_And here your dreams are sweet..._

_And tomorrow brings them true..._

_Here is the place where I love you.~_

_~Here is the place where I love you...~_

Her voice cracked at the end, but it didn't matter. Gale was already dead.

She finished the song, everyone around her with the exception of the soul weaver named Tomix, in tears. As she sing the last notes of the song, years drip down her perfect face onto the face of the little boy. Gale, I believe his name was. She placed a hand on his closed eyes, and whispers, 'Say hi to your parents for me, Gale."

I saw the crystalline tears drip down her porcelain cheeks, and I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to go wipe the tears away, to stop everything, just so I could end her tears.

Then she stands up, and leaves the group.


	2. Chapter 2

~**MISAKI~**

I waited for him to come to the clearing. I knew he would come.

His salient enemy was surrendering. How was he supposed to be able to resist?

The soft moonlight made the daises on the banks of the lake shine softly with an ethereal glow, like they were lit on the inside. I laughed humorlessly at them.

I sat on a boulder, splashing my bare feet in the cool water, the pants of my soul weaver armor rolled up to my knees.

My ears pricked up when I heard him pad into the clearing. He wasn't trying to be silent, he just naturally was.

"I didn't expect you to come alone." I said.

"I could say the same to you." He replied. I laugh.

"I came armed," I notified him.

"Why?" he asked, though he probably already knew the answer.

"I want to talk before you take me." It was true. I wanted answers. Answers only he himself could provide.

"Negotiations?"

"Partly." He came and stood beside the the boulder. He hadn't brought his usual talking sword, just a normal Katana. It probably had some nifty powers, but it didn't talk. He dropped it onto the grass.

I unhinged my soul claws from my wrists, and laid them down on the grass, and lowered my hood.

He looked at me strangely for a moment, then took off his helmet. My breath caught.

~**SEPULCHURE~**

She lowered her hood. It was the first time I saw her hair, and i was shell shocked.

It was in a simple loose braid that hung over her shoulder. I assume she had it tucked it in with a clip or something when the hood was up, but now, when she lowered the hood, it looked a good three feet.

But it was the color that amazed me. It was pure white, like fresh snow, and her longish bangs just brushed her eyes, longer strands curling and framing her pale face, a great contrast to her acid green eyes.

I decided to return the favor. I took off my helmet and dropped it on the grass with my sword. I'm so glad to be free of that annoying talking sword.

I saw her eyes widen and smirked slightly.

**~MISAKI~**

Wow. Just, Wow. Who'd have thought _Sepulchure_ of all people was a hottie?

...

Not that it changes anything.

His dark brown hair was a bit longer than I had imagined it to be, falling in waves down till his chin. His eyes were a red tinged brown, and despite the warm colour, they were cold, and ruthless. I got the impression that a lot had had happened to make him the way he was.

I shrugged off the initial surprise, and shifted a little so he could sit on the boulder beside me.

He sat close to me for some reason, but I refused to give in to the apprehension and back down, so I didn't move.

"So, what do you want to talk to me about?" He asked in a low voice. He sounded quite normal now that he had dropped the arrogant tone and the loudness. Pleasant, even.

"Why are you attacking Lore?" I asked. Lets get down to business.

"To get to you. It's not Lore we want. It's you." I felt the guilt get heavier, and I almost choked. This was it. It was confirmed that every single death caused by this war is my fault. All those people dead, all those families grieving, all my fault.

"So if I come with you, you'll never do anything to harm Lore again?" I asked, satisfied that my voice was steady. I needed confirmation.

"Yes." He didn't hesitate. I looked into his eyes, and the truth was reflected there. I stood up and faced him.

"Fine then." He stood as well, and looked me in the eyes.

"Are you sure?" He asked. His tone was hard.

"He won't go easy on you. He'll make your death slow and painful." I hesitated for a second, but then brutally stamped away any second thoughts. Those people _died_ because of me. _I've_ killed hundreds of people, hurt even more, and left even _more_ mourning, and none of it would have happened if I had just given myself up earlier.

"I'm sure." He frowned a little, though I don't know why, then turned and beckoned for me to follow. I left my weapons and took of my armor and left them near the boulder and followed him. Then suddenly he stopped.

"Don't you want to take anything with you? You'll never see them again."

"It's better this way." I replied. We walked a while till the soft green grass faded to white sand, and there in the distance I could see the dragon skeleton with the castle perched on top. It looked somehow beautiful in the pale moonlight. We got into a boat, and stopped directly under it and then the boat rose into the sky. He started to climb up winding stone stairs, and I followed his lead.

We were in the castle then when I felt a sharp pain on my left temple and I fell to the ground.

The last thing I saw was Sepulchure's pained expression.

XXX


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, I know it's been a long, long, _long_ while, and I am so sorry to those of you that I kept waiting for so long, truly [Like seriously, I was in the eight grade when I posted this and now I'm in freaking college], but, better late than never, right?

I've changed the style a bit, like the first two chapters are in first person present tense, and the new chapters are in third person present tense, and while I'm happy with what I've belted out so far, I may come up with changes in the old chapters as well as the ones I'm posting now, so if I do, I will definitely tell you guys.

As always, please review; flames are also accepted with open arms. I just really love to hear from you guys, because it helps me to write better, you know? and I hope y'all think my writing has improved.

If you guys have any ideas or questions and whatnot, please PM or review or whatever, you know.

Again, I'm really sorry for the epic delay!

* * *

><p>It's surprisingly damp for a flying fortress. Then again, she thinks, even villains need plumbing. Her hair is matted and the strip of cloth she usually ties it back with has come loose. Blood drips down her arms and from her back and the manacles are cinching into her wrists and her hands are white, her muscles stiff and sore, but she can't bring herself to move. Her eyes are shadowed, lips dry and cracking. Drakath grins maliciously.<p>

This is a dream come true for him. The mighty Misaki, defender of the weak, conqueror of evil – lying at his feet, battered, bloody and completely ruined.

"Look at me, little girl." He sneers. He grabs her chin roughly and crouches in front of her.

The dungeon walls are stone, and it only has one tiny, barred window high up, sound tends to echo, so Drakath's petty sneers are drowned out when the door groans open. Sepulchure strides in, his cape swishing behind him. The talking sword is not with him. Drakath lets go of her and stands up.

"Come to have a go?" He asks smilingly. Sepulchure waves his hand in his general direction as a dismissal and a flicker of irritation crosses Drakath's face, but he leaves without a word, banging the door in his wake. Misaki startles out of her half-doze.

"Seppy!" She drawls. "Come to say hello? Haven't seen you around for a while." Her tongue is thick and uncooperative and blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth. Sepulchure stares down at her.

"You are not healing." Misaki's half smile falters.

"Well of course not. I'm only human." He scowls and crouches close to her.

"Don't lie to me." He hisses. "I know all about your abilities, soul-weaver." Misaki's head lolls back down. "I don't know what you're talking about." Sepulchure fights the urge to curse out loud. This was all wrong! He had expected her to heal herself, fend of Drakath's sadistic fancies, _escape, SOMETHING!_ But she had been here two months already, and she was still here!

"Why have you not escaped yet?"

"…How could I possibly escape this fortress?" She whispers.

He stares at her for a moment, before picking up a bottle of water from the corner of the room and carefully holding it to her lips.

"…Drink."


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, I forgot to put this in the last A/N, but I wanted to ask you if I should rewrite the first two chapters in the same format as the new ones? Please tell me what you think in the reviews!

* * *

><p>Sepulchure is torn. The pesky Sword is locked away in the weapons room, and he grips the stone railing tightly, trying to clear him mind. Waves and sea mist pass beneath the castle, and the air smells clean and salty, and the smell makes him cringe.<p>

He has no reason to feel uncomfortable about the soul-weaver's capture. After all, isn't this what he'd been after since day one? His orders had been to capture and dispose of the 'saviour of the people', make sure she didn't interfere in his Master's plans anymore that she already had. She's made his life much harder with all her meddling, so _why in the seven hells _does he feel so bloody protective of her? Why does his heart drop every time he hears her screams from the dungeons?

Is it _lust?_

…Or is it something much, much worse?

X

Some people get a certain sick pleasure from inflicting pain.

Some people from bearing it.

Even so, there is a limit to how much pain the human body can take before it consumes the mind, a limit to how much pain can translate into pleasure.

There are certain kinds of pain that she relishes.

The ache of muscles after a long day. The soreness of a fresh bruise. The startling heat from being a lick too close to a flame.

Not this.

Every morning, and lately whenever she passes out from pain or blood loss, Drakath likes to douse her in cold water to wake her up. He likes to watch her wet and shivering and defenceless.

Drakath has a cruel streak that contorts his face into something truly grotesque. He flays the skin from her back and carves runes onto her arms and laughs at her tears, but she won't beg for mercy. Some days he traces over the runes and opening up the same wounds over and over and over again, making sure they will scar, though he doesn't think she'll live long enough for the flesh to heal enough. He sits and tells her what they mean. He tells her stories of wars and terrible things that humankind does to its own, the things people are capable of doing, as he does them to her. "People change on the battlefield." He mutters, stroking his fingers through her hair. "They become shells of themselves, and they'll do anything to survive. The will _hurt _and _kill_ and _maim, _but once they return home, it haunts them, you see." He trails the tip of his knife over her cheek. "People are _weak._"

"Only the strong deserve to live. Only the strong can do _this,_" He crushes her right arm beneath his foot, and she shrieks in agony, flailing and trying to get away, "to the people that get in their way."

"You deserve this. You think you've save so many lives, helped so many people, and that makes you strong… does it make you feel good about yourself to _help_ people in _need?_ Does it satisfy your childish want for validation to be praised and loved by strangers?" He leans in close. "Strangers who turned on you in a second?"

"They turned on me because I made it so." Misaki manages to choke out. "You know nothing about me-" He kicks her in the face and she crashes over onto the ground with a thud and a clatter of chains.

When he slowly, torturously burns the soles of her feet and the tips of her fingers, she screams and screams because her vocal chords have a mind of their own and there is only so much she can reign herself in, but she has not really surrendered. Drakath realises that it is not about physical pain. It's about pride.

He takes a rusty, blood-stained knife to her hair and cuts it off in brutal chunks. He carries it back to his chambers and keeps it in a box as a prize.

Misaki lays in a pool of her own blood and filthy water, bits of fabric still stuck in the gashes on her back and something fades in her eyes.

_If I lay here…_

_If I just lay here…_


	5. Chapter 5

Something's wrong today, worse, she knows. She feels colder than before, in a way that she hadn't even thought possible. She feel cold under her skin, in her very _bones._ Her body is numb to Drakath's torture, her mind hazy. Sweat drips in rivulets, smearing with the blood. So much blood, in a watered down pool around her. She can see things in so much detail, the sudden brightness of the single ray of sunlight on the floor in front of her painfully bright. She can hear disjointed sentences in her head, like lines from a story but they make no sense to her.

Drakath notices.

"Getting close, are we?" He kicks her.

"Don't think you'll last much longer." He croons happily. "I'm sure master will forgive me if I kill you. He never was one to get his hands dirty." She doesn't respond. She's drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Oh! Looks like I've finally broken you! Have you learned some manners, little girl?" He holds his dagger to her throat. "You're no fun anymore. Maybe I liked you better when you talked back." He lifts her by the hair and plunges his dagger into her stomach repeatedly, twisting it viciously. She screams – a muted, spluttering, pathetic thing. He drops her back onto the floor. "Have fun in your final moments."

The door slams shut behind him.

She's lying there, bleeding, and she barely even registers it. The acid from her stomach leaks from the wound, burning her skin.

A fleeting memory; she was told that she had screamed something awful when Tomix had fished her out of the rubble after the first air raid, she was so delirious with pain. God only knows how they managed to fix her up, must have used so much magic. Twilly, probably. And Aegis. And Tomix. And Warlic. And Lady Celestia.

Her mind is swirling with memories of her friends all of a sudden, and she's sobbing for the first time since being in this godforsaken place. She doesn't hear the hurried footsteps reaching her. When the shackles come loose, she just falls to the floor, shaking. _They won't even remember me, they hate me, they think I betrayed them Oh God they hate me just let me die please let me die they hate me they hate me theyhateme_

Sepulchure's eyes are wide as he quickly pulls her into his arms, smoothing the hair away from her face, feeling the fresh, warm blood soaking her tattered clothes. He places a hand over the wound, pressing tightly and closing it with magic, but Misaki doesn't stop crying and _it's too late_ he thinks, she may not be bleeding anymore but she's not just injured now she's _sick_ and he just picks her up and runs.


	6. Chapter 6

Hyuorinmaru is what tipped them off.

No one knew what to do with him, the traitor's pet. The villagers wanted to put him down, but Tomix had intervened, saying he would keep the beast. It was a dragon, after all. They were extremely valuable alive.

But then he starts to get sick.

His scales began to glow green, and his eyes darkened. He stopped moving around and just lay there, breathing shallowly and keening as if in terrible pain.

At first, Tomix had bitterly thought to let him suffer. He had stared at him coldly for a few minutes that morning over his tea, watching him whimper.

But why should the innocent be punished for the crimes of the guilty? So he takes the dragon to Cyzero.

Cyzero is in his workshop, toiling over a new invention when Tomix arrives.

Cyzero is the only one in the whole realm who truly believes that there was more to what had happened to their beloved hero. Is it really so easy to break a person's faith? Cyzero thinks sometimes. Why does everyone jump to the worst conclusion, even when the person in question is someone who has saved us countless times? But there is nothing to be done, the war has _stopped_ [another suspicious thing] so he continues with his work, all the while thinking that this is just the calm before the storm. He doesn't smile nearly as much, and the noise in his head gets to him more often.

But then the dragon.

"This is very odd." Cyzero observes. He examines the dragon carefully and infinitely gently, and rubs his head soothingly after taking a blood sample.

"Maru is showing signs of blood poisoning but there are no visible injuries on his body. How is this happening?" He frowns. He isn't talking to Tomix.

He doesn't talk to anyone anymore, really. He had tried to make people believe him, believe that Misaki had not just up and left, but it was futile, he realised after a while. They didn't want to believe. They needed someone to love, or someone to hate. It just so happens that it's the same person. And so he stopped going out, he conducted his experiments alone; he keeps to himself now.

But he especially hates Tomix.

He stares at the blood in the vial. They are connected, Misaki and Maru. Mentally. Spiritually. Physically? Is she hurt? Why? Blood poisoning needs a physical injury, right? Is someone hurting her? Why isn't she healing herself?

Suddenly it clicks.

Tomix starts. "What?"

"If Misaki had changed sides, she would be living like a queen. Someone as strong as her, she's be treated as equal to Sepulchure, wouldn't she?" The noise in his head reaches a crescendo.

"_They took her."_

"Cyzero, you're not making any sense –"

"They _took _her you fool, don't you get it?! All this time, you were all thinking she left of her own free will," He rushes around, throwing things into a bag, wide eyed and frenzied. "But she didn't! She didn't_ abandon _us_, _she _sacrificed_ herself for us!" He liftes Hyuorinmaru gently and wraps him in a cloak.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Tomix grabs Cyzero's arm as he runs past him through the front door. Cyzero wrenches his arm away from Tomix and turns to him.

"Don't you _dare_." He hisses. His voice is ice cold.

"I asked for your help," He steps closer to Tomix, sneering, "I _pleaded, _I tried to tell you that something was wrong, but you would not listen and now she is _dying. Alone." _He steps away, out onto the grass. "You have no right." Tomix stares, stunned, and Cyzero leaves him there, running into the forest, Hyuorinmaru tucked into his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

He's not even sure how they made it out, just that he knew that they had to get out. They had fallen into the sea, about a kilometer from the shore and he had carried her to a cottage next to an abandoned lighthouse.

By this point she is limp and quiet. She could have been sleeping, but for the fever.

The house is musty and seems to have been out of use for some time, but the furniture was still there and he lays her down on the small bed in the corner and rummages around in the cupboards for clothes, sheets, _anything._

He should have thought ahead, he should have brought food and water and clothes and a_ bloody blanket_, and he panics for a moment, looking back at Misaki's prone form, _what have I done, _and he feels the heat crawling up his spine and burning the back of his neck, _what have I done_

But then she shivers, and curls into herself. He checks the other cupboards and finds a few old blankets and a cupboard full of dusty old men's clothes and pulls out a nightgown and rushes to her.

"Misaki?" He attempts to manoeuvre her out of her sopping wet clothes, which is easier than it should be because her clothes are so tattered that they fall apart with a pull, and he quickly pulls the gown over her head, averting his eyes.

Soon she's laying on the bed again, three blankets piled over her and a wet cloth on her forehead while Sepulchure stokes the fire, attempting to warm the chilly room.

His clothes are drying on the floor in front of the fire, and he slumps in the armchair.

What now?

He knows he should try to wake her up, clean her wounds, _get some help_, because he is so way out of his depth here and hasn't the faintest clue as to how to treat wounds of this extreme, but who can he go to? Hasn't she successfully alienated all of her 'friends'? He shouldn't have healed the skin over without cleaning the debris out of the wounds in the first place, and he curses and slams his fist against his leg. What if the infection gets worse?

And more pressingly, _what the hell is he even doing?_ Risking his life for the enemy! Everything he's worked for, everything he's wanted his whole life; he just threw it all away _for the enemy_, and for what? What's Misaki going to do when she wakes up, give him a pat on the back and a medal? Swoon over his 'bravery' and plead for his hand in marriage? What does he even want?

He walks over to her and stares down at her lying on the ratty sofa. She has two long cuts from the corners of her lips, forming a bloody, gruesome smile. His mind clears for a moment, and everything is quiet as he sits don on the floor beside her and cleans the cuts on her face and closes the gash with magic. There's a faint white scar left, but her skin is so pale that it's barely noticeable. He does the same for the rest of her body, and he feels something inside him twist in rage at Drakath and his deranged, sadistic ways.

Misaki's eyes flutter. The pain is considerably lessened now, he imagines, but the blood poisoning i still in her body and he doesn't know how to draw it out. Still, she should regain consciousness. And there, her eyes are opening.

"Hey." He whispers and brings a chipped mug of water to her parched lips.

"Whoa, slow down. Don't want you to choke now, do we?" She splutters and he helps her sit up as she coughs. It's dry and wracking, and sounds like something is ripping up her trachea, and Sepulchure strokes her back gently.

"You hungry? I could go get us some food-"

"Where am I?" She interrupts harshly. Sepulchure is still holding her around the shoulders and she isn't strong enough to move away, but she glares at him weakly anyway. He sighs and lays her down again.

"I'm not sure. Somewhere to the north-east of Popsprocket. This is a cottage near the shore." Misaki's brow furrows anxiously. Sepulchure stares at her, at her bright eyes, and is a little unnerved - because her eyes, they're not the same.

When he'd first seen her it had been at an inn in some tiny village. She'd been travelling, and he'd been told to follow her - to assess if she was really the one the prophecy spoke of. She had been wearing normal clothes at the time, and she was sitting at a table with a group of other warriors, nursing a flagon of honeyed mead. She'd been tired and subdued, but still so very vibrant and _alive._

And the first time he had really gotten to see her eyes, oh lord, she had taken his breath away. When she'd pulled her hood down in the clearing on that god-forsaken day, she had looked at him with such calm determination, her acid green irises reflecting the moonlight just so. Her eyes held everything about her, all her secrets and all her emotions. He could tell why she kept them hidden most of the time, because looking into her eyes seemed like something so very intimate.

But now, they're flat. Dead. Empty.

Had Drakath really managed to break her?

"Why, Sepulchure? Why am I here? Why am I not dead?" She asks dully, squeezing her eyes shut.

"...Because I got you out." She turns to face him, and he fancies he can see a flash of that fire in them for a moment.

"_What have you done?_" She hisses.


End file.
